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It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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 by the pricking of my thumbs, lyarra stark
WYNONA UMBER
 Posted: May 31 2018, 08:04 AM
Quote
LEN is Offline
21 years old
NORTH
STARK
UMBER
LAST HEARTH
NOBLE


She was not a difficult person to spot within the grey that consumed Winterfell, for her hair was as bright as the wheat of the Westerlands and her clothing choices more colourful than the monotones most Northerners held to. At first glance, the uneducated might have suspected her to be as Southern as the women of King's Landing, with her bountiful laugh and the easy charm which pushed away the cold. Yet, she was as Northern as any who roamed the halls of Lord Stark, more so by the claims of some. Wynona Umber came from a ancient House, once Kings themselves, who held a pride beyond all others. It was perhaps the first thing any Umber was given, that sense of pride. It was difficult for Wynona to identify as inferior to others, regardless of the truth, which resulted in a noticeable confidence that carried her throughout her days. Her head held high through the grey stone corridors, her eyes made contact with men of all stations, and she dressed to call attention to the assets of her youthful body. The woman was far from subtle in many regards, but there was one area that she respected.

Rickard.

Wynona could count the individuals who knew her position in the Lord's eyes on a single hand, with those who might have suspected added on a second. For months it hadn't mattered, with key members absent from the holding. Wynona had been relatively free to do as she pleased without judgement. It, like all things, had come to an end. Though in truth, the whole affair had lasted far longer than she had expected. Initially she was set to stay for a month with her Uncle, but he had returned to Last Hearth only to be replaced by her brother. From there, excuse after excuse filled her ears. Whether it was the potential for a husband, companionship to her brother, or the safety of travel - there was always a reason for her to remain. No, the ease ended with the return of her lover's wife. Lyarra Stark meant that subtly had to be met once again. And so Wynona played cards with the castellan and sewed with Wylla, she made herself visible and known most places she went so that it appeared someone always knew where she was. Visibility meant fewer eyes questioning her, or they once had. Lately, Wynona was less sure.

It was not yet mid day, but Wynona had risen at a fairly early hour. She had skipped breakfast in favour of a cup of tea, her knotted stomach leaving fears of a developing illness. That would be the last thing she desired here, to be left bored and incapacitated with a flu. Winterfell was not exactly the most interesting place in the world, but it was leagues beyond what the Hearth had been. The day was brisk and she found herself wanting nothing more than the warmth of the dull walls, so she had claimed a book to read in front of one of the holding's many roaring fires. She was wrapped in a brilliant fur cloak, purchased for her by Rickard himself, though her mind no longer went to that when she wore it. The pages crinkled loudly when she turned them, filling the silent void with their ambiance. That is until the sound of footsteps consumed even them. Assuming it was one of the ladies, Arianna, Wylla, Catelyn, or one of the servants - she didn't bother to look up. The last thing the little mistress expected was the presence of Lyarra Stark. "It is rather cold to remain standing off to the side, the hearth is far more comfortable." She mused lightly, still unaware of just who her companion was.

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LYARRA STARK
 Posted: Jun 12 2018, 08:07 PM
Quote
Stormie is Offline
60 years old
NORTH
Targaryen
Stark
Winterfell
Lady of Winterfell


As was custom, Lyarra was up as soon as the sun peaked over the distant mountains and the rooster crowed to welcome it. She had long since held this routine, finding that the quiet mornings when no one had yet awoke gave her peace enough to see the day through. These past few weeks had been particularly trying. Instead of enjoying her matronly years she found herself jealous of anything young enough to still bear children. Rickard's poorly disguised lie had only furthered her insecurities. She found herself looking at each girl as if she was an enemy. Never before had Lyarra felt so jealous in her own household. She hated herself for it and it had caused her to withdraw. Even her more regular maids had noticed that she had removed herself from many of the Winterfell's womanly duties. She feigned ill for some of the afternoons, knowing that the Maester would find little wrong with her. Let the quiet whispers roam around, she needed time to lick her wounds and regain her dignity.

After a week, Lyarra felt strong enough to resume her regular duties. She was still icy to Rickard but tried to be more normal to everyone else. She knew that the servants saw the distance between them but those that had been around long enough knew that the old she-wolf had had these spats before with her husband. Their marriage had stood the tests of time, war and changes in monarchy. Lyarra was confident that Rickard's heart was still hers even if the brain in his pants was not currently keeping her fidelity. When she had dressed and made her way to breakfast, choosing to eat with her children, and surround herself with their love. It was only when Wylla asked why Wynona had not been eating breakfast of late. It was only then that it clicked. She knew exactly who had turned her husbands head from her. The little whore.

Yet Lyarra knew she had to tread carefully. To accuse an Umber of something so directly would have reprecussions. Wynona may not be his daughter, but Lyarra was not an idiot to think that the Umbers were not important. On the other hand, she would be dead before she ever allowed another woman to bear Rickard's child. That she silently swore to the Old Gods. She'd never allow that to happen. She'd discretely take care of the problem if it truly was a problem. After breakfast, Lyarra quietly made her way to the kitchen, arranging the rest of the meals for the day, and picking which cuts of meat to use. Gamely she asked Catelyn to oversee it and see if there was any other things that needed to be attended to. Catelyn had no problem but asked if she was feeling unwell. Lyarra simply smiled and let her know that she was not quite completely well.

It was in one of the studies that she saw the whore snuggled up in a fur coat that was worth far more than what her uncle's pension afforded her. So that was where the tanners money had been spent. Anger boiled in her veins but she took one deep breath and then another. Wynona's voice rang out an rather informal way and Lyarra knew that she had not yet been sighted. She clears her voice, "Lady Umber, I'm not sure you know what it feels like to be off to the side. I have seen how you've dressed as late. It's a pity my sons are all spoken for." She steps to the side and sits down opposite of Wynona. She had no intentions of letting the girl off the hook so easily. She gives her a small smile, though the light of it doesn't quite reach her dark eyes. "Wylla was asking about you at breakfast. I hope you haven't caught my cold although that cloak should keep you very warm." She watches the girl calmly, like a wolf stalking prey.


@WYNONA UMBER
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WYNONA UMBER
 Posted: Jun 16 2018, 09:01 AM
Quote
LEN is Offline
21 years old
NORTH
STARK
UMBER
LAST HEARTH
NOBLE


The voice should have stopped Wynona in her tracks, or at the least it would have stopped any sane individual on the cusp of the Lady Stark's wrath. The woman's crisp attitude was no secret to the occupants of Winterfell, even if some had only been in her company for a few moons. Yet, Wynona Umber did not flinch when Lady Stark entered. Instead, she turned the page of her book and continued on until the line she had been consuming finished. "No, I don't." She seemingly affirmed the first portion of the elderly woman's statement. "My family believes firmly in the use of each member, that each person has a proper place." She mused, closing the book lightly and shifting her position so that she could look up at the Lady Paramount. Unlike others, however, Wynona did not stand or offer up a formal greeting. It was perhaps a daring move, one she likely would not have made had she been in any other position within the household. "Although I can't be sure quite what my dress or your boys have to do with it." The young lady offered up, eyes feigning innocence as she blinked lightly enough to bat her lashes. A light smile grew on her face, knowing full well what Lyarra Stark was insinuating. That, however, did not mean she planned to admit to anything.

Not yet anyways.

"Thank you for the concern my Lady." She spoke in response to the Stark's final quip. "Though don't worry, I'm not quite sure anyone could catch such a thing from you, after all you were so indisposed." She dragged for a moment, mock concern in her voice with no attempt to hide the falsehood. "Sometimes I just skip breakfast, I find with all the sweets and breads offered in Winterfell it is far too easy to let ones figure fade. My Uncle hopes to find me a husband soon and I couldn't imagine being displeasing, my Aunt tells me it's the number one cause for a man straying from his bed. Though I suppose with age it is less avoidable...." She mused, weaving together the lies to form a cognitive story that hid nothing from Lyarra. If anything Wyn only hoped to taunt her slightly, toying with the reality they now apparently both knew.

Sometimes she wondered why Rickard still visited the wrinkled woman, forget the fact that her body had long since lost its youth, she seemed like the type of woman to lie still like a dead fish. No one in the Umber house presented sex as pure obligation, meant for women to produce children and nothing else. She was no stranger to the screams of her Aunts as a girl, or the dopey grins her Uncles sometimes emerged from their bedchambers with. With Rickard it was fun, beyond enjoyable. He knew things she couldn't have imagined and the learning curve had been rather steep, at least she always proved to be a strong student. Even there, sitting and staring at his macabre bride, Wynona couldn't help but moisten at the thought of Rickard thrusting into her.

The young woman put no thoughts to the future or what might come of it, for now she was content in her lot and grateful for an opportunity to possess this level of freedom. She had no idea if Lyarra had always been this bitter, or the position of Lady had pushed her there, but Wyn had no intention of finding out. Pretty things, secret rendezvous....why would she ever want responsibly? Gods, Wynona Umber did not wish to be Lyarra. Lyarra could be the bitter snotty wife all she wanted. Wynona only wanted her possessions after all, and if the Stark woman wasn't capable of keeping them? Well then did she even deserve them at all?
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LYARRA STARK
 Posted: Jun 24 2018, 10:07 AM
Quote
Stormie is Offline
60 years old
NORTH
Targaryen
Stark
Winterfell
Lady of Winterfell



She watched her quietly, calmly although Lyarra was surprised when this emotion came over her. She realized then that anger and jealousy over this passing fancy would be energy spent for naught. This little girl would mean nothing in the end and Lyarra was not above making sure of it. She notices the blatant disregard of social standings, of the way her eyes defiantly looked at her and yet tried to keep a innocence that was more like a snake in the grass than a pupppy playing. The Old Lady Wolf did not let anger reach her face or even give off any indication that she cared.

Lyarra wanted to smack the feigned innocence off the blonde's face but instead she sits back in her chair. "A cold can quickly becomes a plague if the proper precautions are not taken. It's best to isolate and get rid of it quickly." They could play the cat and mouse game but at the end, the Lady Wolf would set her in the chains of her house or something similar. Maybe worse.

She stifles a laugh as the girl speaks of men straying from beds. "Then I'm sure you will dress more appropriately. After all, your Uncle wouldn't want rumors spreading that his neice is spoiled goods. How ever will he make an appropriate match? Girls your age and standing are little more than traded goods. Why else would you be entrusted to my house, to serve as my lady?" They were not in Dorne. Girls of the North were traded to ensure family ties. They were chips to boost a family's standing. There was no Nymeria Martell here. And Lyarra now looked at her as nothing but a twat that didn't know how good she had it. A girl playing a game she had only started learning. It was clear her Uncle was trying to turn iron into gold. An old alchemy trick that Lyarra had yet to see work.

Lyarra smiled then softly though there was something devious about the way it hit her dark eyes. "But I can understand your sentiments. Beauty fades with time and you certainly can't waste what little you have." She pauses, contemplating her next sentence. "I'll be sure to have the cooks fix healthier meals for you then. I'm sure you would want to take them in your rooms without any temptation of anything sweet. And I will add more tasks for you to make sure that you are not tempted to lose your figure by lounging in libraries being slothful." She watches for a reaction for a moment before turning to look at the fire, contemplating her next move.

It would be silly for Wynona to protest now, after showing such concern for her own figure. And should anyone question her, Lyarra would tell them the truth. The Lady Wynona was concerned about her figure, and Lyarra was only showing the girl how to maintain even after the birth of several children. Lyarra was no longer the slim, willowy girl she had been in her youth but rather she had curves that showed that she had no problem in the child bed. Ah, but how the youth always think they are right! Lyarra had watched her sister play the same games that Wynona thought herself so original at. Her sister was fat, with something like 10 children with no good prospects for marriage and a low standing husband that never visited her for fear of getting her pregnant again even after her monthly bleeds stopped. Lyarra would make sure that the same fate crossed Wynona Umber if it was the last thing she did. Silently she swore it to the Old Gods.

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